Take
by damageddementia
Summary: If you want to be the subject of attention, then your man has to be the subject of attention. Just beware: some day, he may no longer need you.


**Title: Take**

******Prompt: Top of Head  
****Medium: fic  
****Rating: T/PG-13  
****Warnings: Sexual content.**

**********************Summary: If you want to be the subject of attention, then your man has to be the subject of attention. Just beware: some day, he may no longer need you. Dolph Ziggler/Vickie Guerrero, mentions of Kaitlyn, Edge, and Big Show. Late 2010/early 2011.**

* * *

Women were stereotypically better seen than heard. It rang more true in the wrestling business; a nice rack and a fit body could take a girl further than the ability to perfectly wield their tongue.

As a woman who made her money focused on what her mouth could do for her, Vickie had the cards stacked against her. Maybe once she was considered beautiful, even if subpar in comparison to the other divas, but her time has passed. She was a mother, and that left marks on her skin and parenting aged her beyond her years.

Even worse, there was a time when she was alone that she was too ashamed to talk about, the kind of eating that only tragedy could turn her too. For a long time, it was her only solace, her best friend; she'd lost what little figure she had while searching to fill the hole deep inside her with whatever she could.

Vickie couldn't wrestle; she didn't even have in ring talent to help hold her spot. Cole and Lawler made her shortcomings perfectly clear, mocking her openly as she attempted a tribute to her best friend, her partner. Luckily she couldn't hear them that night, or she may have ran out of the ring. It was just one move, one simple move, and she was unable to do it.

She wasn't a wrestler. She wasn't good looking, by any standard. All she had was boundless passion, instilled in her by being part of a family so bound to the business, and strengthened by the irresistible allure, and the ability to make herself heard.

It was all she had, and she would use it to the fullest. Because she loved wrestling. And she would give anything to be a part of it.

Vickie Guerrero wouldn't be pushed aside, wouldn't be told she couldn't.

She'd seen enough to know it would be hard; she'd seen Kara Drew future endeavored for the exact reasons she feared, and Kara was much prettier than her. But she wouldn't stop just because it was hard. No, it meant to much to her, to the Guerrero name.

Vickie Guerrero would never wear the gold, but she would also never let her dream be ripped away from her. She spoke. She screeched. She made audiences around the world hate her with two simple words, and slowly, she claimed her place in the WWE.

She would take that hatred and aim it at someone who could hold gold. She'd be an ally and a manager for a lost lamb; she'd be the shepherd. She'd bring opportunity to boundless potential, and need and gratitude would make that star bring her to the spotlight as well.

She'd been naïve about how it would work before. Adam taught her first, and Paul after; she couldn't expect them to be thankful for what she had, for what she had given. Not when she lacked so much and there was so little left to take. Too often people were like parasites, only remaining so long as they could gain, moving on as soon as there was nothing left. Adam and Paul sucked from Vickie until she had nothing left.

Their ambition far exceeded their gratitude; their light shone beyond her usefulness. If Vickie was going to remain in her seat of power, beside a superstar she created, then she needed to remain useful, remain relevant.

Enter Dolph Ziggler. Dolph was her fourth try, another shot at the glory. She could see his future. 2009, he'd gotten countless chances and he wasn't able to capitalize off of any of them, despite having the look, the attitude, and the skill. He was at the threshold, clawing at his potential, not yet passing onto the other side.

Vickie would help him cross over. Vickie would rebuild the reputation that fell through after the losses and the taunts and help him take the spot that was rightfully his. And once again, she'd be in the spotlight, the manager who could bring any man to the top.

She only wondered when a greed for success, total success would kick in. Powerful men, men on top… had beautiful women. They had arm candy, someone who could brighten the room with her smile and have men wondering about what's under her dress. It wasn't an equal they were after, a partner. They wanted a trophy.

Vickie might've been losing weight, and looking better than she was when she first decided to be a manager with Edge, but she would never be a trophy.

She could see her spot beginning to fall under her. There she was, Kaitlyn, the epitome of what was wrong with the sport today. Her redeeming quality wasn't the way she spoke, or the way she moved; she could barely wrestle and couldn't hold the crowd with her promo. She was young breasts, she was a young face, and that's all anyone could see, and that was exactly what she was throwing in Dolph's face.

Vickie was a businesswoman; she understood how this worked. Kaitlyn would look so much better in any picture Dolph took. Having a girl that looked like that on his arm was a sign of status. People spoke positively of the cute girl on your arm, and more snidely about the woman who had to continuously diet and exercise and still looked like she did. She could already feel their time running short.

Dolph fell for her charms—he was just another victim of the flaws of the gender today—but, for some reason, he came back to Vickie. He stood by Vickie, and suddenly, Kaitlyn was no longer a problem. She was out of sight, and Vickie and Dolph were alone again.

There was still enough gratitude in the Intercontinental Champion, it seemed.

Vickie stood on her scale, frowning at the number. Most of the time, that number seemed so constant. She was a fantastic manager, and she knew it, and all she wanted was for her work not to fall inconsequential because she wasn't a size two.

She stepped off, moving to the mirror, staring into it. She was only in her underclothes, hoping that whatever clothes she wore had a little extra weight than they should, and it took away from her true weight. So many imperfections that, for some reason, meant so much more than her many wonderful qualities. Vickie could be a companion, a supporter, and a leader. Three things that mattered so much less than her outer beauty.

A loud knock on the door. "Hey, I need to go. You almost done?"

"Give me a minute!" She grabbed her shirt, pulling it on. She wasn't going to flaunt her imperfections in Dolph's face, not when the inevitable end was coming closer. "Give me a minute!" Soon enough, she was at the door, looking at Dolph Ziggler. He truly was perfection, the best thing that could've come Vickie's way. Adam and Paul already tasted gold without her, and probably would once she was gone, and Eric was found lacking, but Dolph struck between the two: with all the talent and less of the certainty of success.

Vickie was positive he'd have all the success in the world soon enough.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"It's inside out." Vickie looked down. Sure enough, it was. She chuckled at herself, more than anything because she didn't want him to think anymore on this. Dolph just grinned, a quiet laugh hanging on his mouth as he grabbed the hems of Vickie's shirt. She allowed him to pull the shirt over her head, despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted: to be that bare in front of Dolph.

It would be a reminder that, despite everything she'd given him, she was ultimately someone to be thrown away. It would be enough to remind him of Kaitlyn's perfect form, how Kaitlyn had offered it all to him, and probably still would.

They were in a business that prided beauty in their women first and foremost, and in the end, Dolph was still a player in this business.

"You were doing it again, weren't you?" Vickie blinked, looking at Dolph. She reached for her shirt, but he held it away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, yes you do." Dolph tossed her shirt to the side, far from her reach. "I hate it when you obsess over the little things."

"The little things?" She spat. She knew he knew; he'd walked in on her staring at herself in the mirror, or on a scale enough in the course of their partnership. But he still had no right to belittle it, not when she was fixing her diet and working out, not when she was giving it all and it still wasn't enough. Not when everyone was still shoving her weight into her face, like some kind of mandate: lose more. Look prettier. Be better.

"Yeah, the little things." Dolph nodded towards the bathroom. "Go inside."

"Dolph…"

"Please." The one word made it sound like a request more than anything, and Vickie nodded, turning and moving inside. One of Dolph's hands, at some point, found her shoulder and led her to the bathroom mirror. And there they were, reflected together. Vickie's marked, flabby stomach next to Dolph's trim, perfect torso.

He was, to borrow the lyric, the definition of perfection.

She was, to borrow a line from John Cena, a double bagger.

"Your reflection's not going to change by staring at it," he said softly, "And why is that so important to you?"

She doesn't want to point out her flaws to him, to say them aloud. He must've heard them himself enough times from other wrestlers. "You know why."

"I don't." He moved his hand from her shoulder to her side, touching her flesh. "Your work's paid off. You look better than ever." Not enough."More beautiful than ever." Nowhere near enough to guarantee her future with him.

"You're beautiful."

"So are you." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a bit of tenderness, and a lot of reassurance. "I've thought you were since we met." And she could remember it clearly. He'd been unable to take the belt from Rey, or from Morrison after him. Morrison had ridiculed him, saddled him with an embarrassing nickname like Mr. Ziggles and left him at a low point in his career. And like a bird with a broken wing, Vickie tended to him, preparing him for this. Intercontinental champion, and, by her estimate, a future world champion.

Vickie had offered her hand, and although Dolph was hesitant at first, he grabbed it and allowed her to pull him to where they were now.

Part of Vickie couldn't believe what he was saying, refused to believe it, but as Dolph wrapped his arms around her torso and whispered to her, she wanted more than anything for him to believe his words, beyond the security they offered.

He kissed her head again, before laying his head on her shoulder, whispering three words that neither of them said in private before. She'd heard them in the ring, but by her estimate, they were words to keep her by his side, words to stand up for his manager. She never thought them sincere in any form.

Vickie had been worried about ambition in relation to gratitude. She never even thought about ambition in relation to love. And apparently, Dolph was trying to say that his love for her far exceeded his ambition. He could be lying, but at that moment, his voice seemed to say otherwise.

She relaxed against him. It was too late; her intentions went far beyond ambition as well. Right then, her love for him far exceeded any type of ambition she had.

The tide might turn someday, but for that moment, Vickie wanted to trust in her future with Dolph. In the ring and outside of it.


End file.
